


Tales of the Hunt 2

by pr_squared



Series: Tales of the Hunt [2]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Hunters & Hunting, Woman on Top, meat paradox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Series: Tales of the Hunt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970527
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bamboladigiada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamboladigiada/gifts).



Lindsey glimpsed him first through the dense brush with her infrared binoculars, a large hot shape showing red against a cold, black background. From the start, she had known that he was larger than most. Quietly, she pushed the glasses back into their case and signaled Anna, her partner, who searched off a way off to the left with no such success. Both wore matching camouflaged jump suits but otherwise looked quite different. Anna was medium height and medium build with dark hair, brown eyes and ivory skin. Lindsey was slight. Her hair was chestnut and her eyes were hazel. No one with any sense hunted alone. A jack might always attack, using a lost arrow or a broken tree branch as a weapon. Males were truly unpredictable and dangerous.

Anna acknowledged Lindsey's signal silently with some disappointment, wishing somehow that Lindsey was only joking in her inimitable way and better that she herself would be the one to make the first sighting today. Well, last year she had been the one. She reviewed their well-practiced plan in her mind.

Anna and Lindsey had hunted together often and worked well as a team, both in the office as accountants and in the field. Both loved volleyball and skiing. Both loved a challenge and both loved to win. Lindsey had made this sighting and she had earned first shot. Anna's task was also a challenge and should the jack elude Lindsey, she would have her own opportunity. Anna moved forward, but stayed far off to the left. She proceeded deliberately and moved slightly away from the jack's hiding place. Anna made just a bit of unnecessary noise. She was to divert their quarry’s attention but not frighten him away; to tilt the balance, encourage the jack to crouch down in his hiding place and simply wait for her to wander off.

Lindsey dropped quietly from sight. Slowly and carefully, she closed in, inexorably but indirectly, as if by accident and not by design. She prayed that even had the jack seen her, he would not know that she had seen him. She tried to conceal her intent at first, hoping that even had the jack seen her, he would not realize that she was stalking him. He was too far away and still might easily slip off into the woods, if alarmed too soon. 

When a jack sees a hunter, he balances the risk that he has already been spotted with the danger of leaving his hiding place and baldly exposing his exact location or even blundering unknowingly into the sites of another unseen hunter. More than one jack had crept from concealment only to fall to a second hunter who had not even been aware that he had been hiding nearby. The percentages, though, usually sided with sneaking away carefully before one had been spotted, but only if one guessed that one was about to be spotted. Sometimes, though, any movement at all might give away an otherwise safe hiding place. Panic often overwhelmed reason and a jack rarely had the opportunity to learn from a mistake.

Meanwhile, Lindsey crept closer and closer undetected. Like an actress in a silent movie, Anna played her role to the hilt. She looked broadly from side to side, to all appearances continuing to scan the distance with grand dramatic movements.

Lindsey moved forward undetected, she hoped, and crept gradually to her right. Then she moved forward again, slowly. She hid behind a gigantic hickory tree and kept her head down -out of sight. She waited as long as she might, then raised her head slightly and peered around the massive trunk. She saw the jack again, just for an instant, crouching between two large bushes. He was still a way away - too far for an accurate shot.

He was magnificent! In the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves, he looked huge, probably two meters tall and a hundred kilos in weight or more. He weighed more than Lindsey and Anna weighed together. His large frame was draped with sheets of thick muscles, their lines sharply defined beneath his perspiration-coated skin. He looked like a honest-to-goodness Blue Ribbon Champion groomed with love and skill for the County Fair.

Suddenly, the jack looked up. A puzzled expression marred his perfect features. He tensed as if to flee. Lindsey stopped and held her breath. She struggled to quell her rising feelings of panic. Had he just seen Anna or perhaps he had seen her? For a long moment, Lindsey feared that he had seen her. Should he flee now, he was still too far away for a good shot and all that she would bring home was a good story to share with her sister and her friends, should they even take the time to listen to her. Perhaps, she might just charge him herself and try to close for a better shot. Surprise itself might paralyze him for crucial seconds. Lindsey chose to wait and he waited too. He had only seen Anna! Lindsey allowed herself to relax a bit when the jack crouched back down between the bushes, apparently concluding that Anna's path would not bring her close enough to threaten his reasonably good hiding place. He had only seen Anna after all and he seemed somehow calmed by an obvious threat that he could see.


	2. Chapter 2

The stag - called Timmy by his friends - surveyed his surroundings as best he could while trying to remain deep in cover. He had survived two previous hunts. He marked the slow passage of minutes that would bring him to the end of this day. Twice before he had survived the Hunt, and his success was not random. He stayed focused and alert. He searched his surroundings minutely and methodically. He listened carefully and even sniffed the air. He saw nothing that moved except the leaves in the wind and the clouds overhead. He heard nothing but the winds. He smelled only himself, the pine trees, and the redolent odor of the rich detritus of the forest floor. He could not detect the faintest aroma of the strong floral scents that the bitches so loved. Lisa Humboldt had worn that scent too, he recalled with a smile. He certainly would not call her a bitch.

It was his first year at the Camp when the block captain picked him to join a gang for a work detail at the Humboldt farm. He had been glad to be chosen, even at the beginning. Everyone said that it was hard work and it was. But anything was better than the tedious make-work and boredom of the Camp. At the end of the day, Ms. Humboldt let the boys swim in her pond and treated the ten of them to a real home cooked meal.

On his third visit, Tim emerged from the pond dripping-wet while the sun was still hanging on the horizon, a few minutes before the bell announcing dinner. He wanted to dry off a bit before dinner and the van ride back to Camp Stanton. He walked up the beach to retrieve his shift, but it wasn't hanging from the branch where he had left it. Perhaps it had blown away, he had thought at the time, he remembered ruefully. Not at all wanting to report his only item of clothing missing and ride back to the Camp stark naked, he walked a short way into the woods - eyes down, searching the ground carefully. He could imagine his gang teasing him relentlessly on the hour ride back to Camp.

Suddenly, a heavy weight crashed onto his back. Arms surrounded his neck and legs wrapped, around his middle. He tipped and almost fell. He regained his balance after a struggle only to be regaled by female laughter. He twisted and turned and could not dislodge the woman- Lisa- on his back. He tried rubbing her off against a tree and she bit his ear and literally took off a piece. He squealed as much in surprise as pain and heard yet more laughter. In desperation, he threw himself to the ground and tried to crush her. She hit the ground with a "whoompf" with him on top of her. He was shaken up and lost his breath too. He smelled her perfume somehow - flowers - for the first time. It was not an aroma common to the Camps and it had stayed with him ever since.

In a second, Lisa's three friends were on him and held him down while she squirmed out from under him. Her hair was matted with leaves and twigs. Her clothes were dirty and torn. Blood dribbled out the corner of her mouth. Tim was worried that she might be angry, but she was grinning broadly -ear to ear - and her eyes shone with amusement.

She knelt beside him while her friends held him. She brought her face in front of his. Tim tried to turn his head away but she pulled him toward her and pushed her bleeding lips against his. She pushed a piece of his ear into his mouth and then pursued it with her tongue. Tim tried to resist, but was distracted by a hand roughly kneading his genitals.

"Lisa, look at this!" called a voice that Tim later learned belonged to Lisa's friend Amanda. Lisa looked up. Tim tried to take advantage by spitting out the piece of his ear, but Lisa had replaced her mouth with her hand. In the end, Tim had swallowed the piece of his own ear.

Mandie had spit on her hand and worked him to an erection. She continued and continued enthusiastically. Tim simply surrendered to the sensation and stopped struggling. Lisa looked up and smiled. "Let me finish him!" she insisted. Lisa swung herself around and sat on his belly. She spit on her hand and started to work his sex. She was skilled and persistent. Mandie followed. Tim had little left for Jen and by the time that Caitlin took her turn, nothing at all.

Tim missed dinner that night, but didn't regret it in the slightest. He had made a number of trips back to the Humboldt farm after that night and twice Lisa had gotten permission for him to stay over night. He especially remembered one night when the Humboldts' had gotten a call that a boy had fled the Camp and might be heading toward their area.

Lisa called Mandie, Jen, and Caitlin and took him to the barn with King, her dog in close pursuit. Lisa tossed him a towel and told him to rub his male parts. In what seemed no more than minutes, Mandie, Jen, and Cait were there also. Jen and Caitlin had their dogs and all had their rifles. This was not sport. Lisa put the dogs on the scent from the towel. She and Mandie headed out with King in the direction of Camp while Caitlin and Jen took their dogs at opposite right angles. They locked him in the barn. 

He waited what seemed like a long time. He heard a dog bark and then the enthusiastic yelping of several dogs sounding. He heard a shot, quiet, and then another shot. The final shot was followed by a loud whistle and then by silence.

The girls were all smiles when they returned. He thought about it often.


	3. Chapter 3

Lindsey crept closer, steadily again, and yet closer. She moved silently through the thick growth. Her excitement mounted as the distance between them diminished. Her mouth went suddenly dry. Her palm was wet on the jack skin grip of her bow. Irrationally, she feared the jack would somehow hear her heart pounding in her chest and flee. This was the thrill of the hunt.

She fought to maintain her focus as images of what might happen or might not happen crowded into her consciousness. She saw herself triumphant, as pleased with herself as Emily Norton had been after her 3-pointer in that damned basketball game, standing beside the massive carcass with her arm draped around a thick thigh possessively as she accepted the adulation of her friends and congratulations from people she didn't even know. Then in her mind's eye, she saw the jack looking up at her quizzically after her arrow totally missed, trying to decide whether to flee or to attack. Then she saw the jack wounded, but somehow dashing off oblivious to his injury and pain, while she struggled to follow after him and complete what she had begun. The jack, though, still had his eyes on Anna as she noisily made her way through the dense cover. 

Finally, only several trees and a clump of bushes separated Lindsey from her prey. She was so close that she swore that could smell him, a musty, male, natural odor that she found strangely arousing. She smiled at her silliness and quickly regained her focus. He might have smelled her too sweating under her jump suit, on that calm, windless day, if she hadn't remembered to use that unperfumed deodorant soap and skip her usual cologne. She had even rinsed her clothes twice to remove any residue that might give her away. He was magnificent and he was there for her to take. He must indeed weigh a hundred kilos without a gram of excess fat. She nocked an arrow and took a deep breath.

The Hunt controlled male numbers but left a problem with disposal of the remains. Before the Revolution, the population of the United States had been 280 million. The population now was 140 million girls and women and 50 million boys and adults males. The annual harvest ran about 2 million jacks. Two million carcasses rotting in the woods seemed wasteful and would have been a continuing feast for the vermin that spread disease. Retrieving the bodies would be distasteful and expensive enough. Returning the bodies to their individual families for funerals would have been extraordinarily complicated and poorly received. Once collected centrally, mass disposal of the bodies en mass by burial or cremation of the bodies would have still presented a substantial logistical problem even with Hunting dates staggered in different counties. Even mass incineration was had costs and posed a substantial environmental burden. 

However, creative women, being civilized beings, predictably sought the unusual and exclusive as outward symbols of their sophistication, wealth, and high social standing. Some argued the essence of human civilization itself was women's response to male strength and eagerness for violence. Women had held their own through millennia of oppression and now technology had turned the tide. A victory had been won and might be celebrated.

Trophies were taken from the very start, but much was wasted at first. However, jacks like rabbits, raccoons,or coyotes, might be skinned. The creativity and imagination of the fashion industry, restrained by the harsh restrictions of the years of the Revolution and Reconstruction, rose to the challenge of a new, but natural material and its possibilities. Women with adequate means treasured their expensive goods of genuine jack leather, its scarcity added to its dearness, which added paradoxically to its popularity and vice versa. Women of more modest means dreamed of the day when they might indulge themselves similarly and no longer need settle for synthetic imitations.

Some women even proved vulnerable to the outré urge to shock their more quotidian friends with their culinary daring. It began crudely enough in the hunting camps as a private ritual among those most deeply committed to the gourmets at the most exclusive restaurants in our great cities, such as new order and never discussed with outsiders. Now, the elegantly dressed Frere Jacques and Les Guerillieres, and in great cities across the world, an avant garde elite impress their more conventional friends and discuss the proper selection of wine to accompany an appetizer or entree featuring jacques. A red Bordeaux is still preferred by those who know when a well-manicured  
hand gracefully impales a lean sliver of fillet of jacques on the prongs of a finely made sterling silver fork and neatly maneuvers it between brilliantly colored lips, past gleaming white teeth, and into the moist embrace of a delicate tongue. At home, any cabernet will do at festive times with a beautifully presented saddle or haunch of jacques. On more routine evenings a zinfandel goes well with jacques stew. On college campuses, apple ale is more in order after the rally, when a trussed jack is boiled until tender, seared quickly on a spit over an aromatic mesquite fire, and then drenched in whatever barbecue sauce comes to hand just before serving. At home, soda goes well with sliced homme and cheese on rye, jacqueburgers, and sausages.

Many who cannot even imagine themselves slaughtering and dressing a lamb, steer, hog, chicken, or even a fish, purchase neat and tidy packages of cellophane-wrapped butcher meat without a pause, much less a twinge of revulsion. Similarly, many who found the messy details of the Hunt distasteful, still shared in its fruits with enthusiasm and looked forward to their annual packages of jacques, already butchered into commercial cuts, neatly trimmed, and wrapped in white butcher paper . Overnight, the problem changed from too many males to too few male carcasses to satisfy a vigorously growing demand.


	4. Chapter 4

Suddenly, a whirring sound yanked Tim back into the present. Inexplicably oblivious to danger, he just stood up. Something just wasn't right. He turned to see Lindsey standing not more than 5 meters distant. All in a brief instant, he saw a petite, hazel-eyed young woman in camouflage greens, a few years older than his twenty years. She stood no taller than the middle of his chest. Her thick, chestnut hair was pulled back neatly into a pony tail that trailed pertly out of the back of her drab khaki baseball cap, and was tied with a khaki ribbon. She carried a bow but she held it in a strangely nonthreatening position, down with one hand and no arrow was even apparent. She was smiling ear to ear and something was very frightening about her triumphant glee.

He felt exposed. He was aroused from his reminiscences. He looked down briefly and saw his penis standing in full salute. He looked up with yet more confusion. She still had not moved! The woman followed his eyes and actually winked. He thought to flee, but a sudden burning in his chest diverted his attention. He looked down again and was surprised to see the feathers of an arrow protruding from his left chest. He half-turned and saw its bitter point nosing out of his back. A thin trickle of blood ran down his tanned flank. The pain became fierce and he savored the metallic taste of his own blood welling up from his throat. He tried to run, but the strength had already fled from his once powerful legs. Suddenly, even standing was too difficult, let alone running, and he crashed to the ground, his vision fading.

Lindsey stood over him, her arms raised in triumph. She tried to flip him over on his back with her foot and failed because of his size. Finally, she squatted beside him and wedged her arms under him. Anna ran over to help. "Great shot, she exclaimed." I wonder what distracted him?"

Together, they lifted and flipped his heavy carcass over onto his back with some difficulty. He was magnificent in truth. Lindsey squatting beside him, felt his neck for a pulse. She could detect nothing more than a thready, fading beat. She did not cut his throat. She would take his head with a generous cape of skin to facilitate mounting. She just could not help herself. She threw off her cap, then she held his nostrils closed with one hand and grabbed his unresisting chin with the other. He gasped weakly for air. She turned his head towards her and covered his mouth with her own fiercely, seeking to capture his last breath. He struggled feebly for a short time, then grew still. Lindsey released him and stood, blood smeared on her face and staining her clothes. She grabbed Anna and embraced her in joy.

Anna enjoyed the moment's display of spontaneous affection but quickly pushed Lindsey away. She then brushed off the leaves and grass that had stuck to the jack's front and allowed Lindsey a moment to admire her kill. "A clean kill, Lindsey! Good shooting," Anna said with real emotion. She noticed that his ear was scarred. 

Lindsey replaced her dull, khaki baseball cap with one bright scarlet in color with the pink plastic caricature of a naked jack spread supine over its crown. A silly propeller projected from the jack's oversized phallus which spun if you squeezed on his scrotum. Lindsey inspected the ear. "Well, he’s not a trophy after all and he’s not Brad Norton, either. Darn!" Lindsey smiled, "I'd like to be the one who brings him in!"

Only then Anna set them both to work. She rolled his fat cock, still warm to the touch though cooling quickly, in her fist and looped a length of string around its end. She tied it tightly so that he would not pee on himself or worse on her. She allowed herself a moment to knead his large balls inside their scrotal sac and to touch the tip of his sex. Looping strong ropes around his ankles, the two women dragged the heavy body to a clear patch of ground, the blood dribbling out the mouth left a thin red line against the green and brown forest floor.

They were a team. Anna climbed a likely tree with agility and hung the block and tackle from a stout branch about the right height and tied it securely. Lindsey positioned the spreader bar between the jack's legs and looped a rope around his right ankle while Anna climbed back down. With help from the pulley, Anna and Lindsey lifted the heavy carcass which weighed more than the two of them combined - so that it hung suspended with the head hanging just clear of the ground and only the heavily muscled forearms touching. Lindsey, still; grinning wildly stood beside him for a picture. Her head was no higher than his groin. She draped her arm around his heavy buttock and fiddled with his cock like it was a puppet. She talked in her funny voice and made Anna laugh.

"You've got to hold still, if you want a good picture." Anna said with mock frustration. 

Anna steadied the carcass so that it wouldn't move. The legs splayed apart, so that Lindsey could slip her hand between his muscular buttocks and use her thin bladed fillet knife to cut a circle around his bung. Lindsey pushed her hand through the bloody mess and pulled his rectum up a decimeter so that she might tie off his bowels securely. While Lindsey prepared to gut him,  
Anna reached behind the carcass to secure the arrow. Holding the blades carefully, so that she would not cut herself, she unscrewed the arrow-head and then withdrew the shaft without further damage.

Lindsey stepped back and stretched. Anna released the carcass and it rotated freely several turns.. Lindsey rinsed her hands and her thin bladed filleting knife with water from her canteen, sheathed it carefully, and planned her next step. She unsheathed her short bladed knife and Anna handed her the sharpening iron. Several strokes restored its keenness.

Lindsey stood beside her prize again. Pulling up on his dark pubic hairs, she tented the skin over his pubis and slipped in her blade, opening the skin over his belly down to his sternum. A second, deeper cut opened his abdomen between the thick rectus muscles. Anna took the offered knife and handed Lindsey the heavy bladed Janie knife with its serrated edge. Meanwhile, Anna extended the incision through the skin above the sternum and through to neck while Lindsey sawed through the ribs on either side of the sternum with her heavy Janie knife. The breastbone came free and she warned Anna to stand clear as blood gushed out of his chest. Lindsey tossed the sternum away for some wild creature to gnaw. With her free hand, she rolled his heavy balls in their sac then cut off the sac and its contents cleanly.

Anna reached far up into his neck and identified his windpipe and esophagus. She looped a tie around each then tied them off securely. She reached up again and made a cut above her ties and then carefully peeled his lungs and heart from his chest cavity. That left his esophagus floating in a chest still filled with blood. His heart went into a plastic storage bag. Anna's dog enjoyed heart.

Lindsey traded the heavy knife for her short bladed knife once more. She carefully loosened up the bowels and stomach with no leakage of their contents. She cut around the diaphragm, freed the esophagus back of the chest and then pulled it up and freed the liver and pancreas from their attachments. She smiled when she felt his thick, heavy tenderloins. The liver, pancreas, thymus, and spleen went into plastic bags and she discarded the remainder. Then she cut a circle around the penis, then slipped it down through the pubic aitch and into the pelvis. She removed the penis, bladders, ureters, and kidneys intact. The penis, bladder, and kidneys were stowed together with the scrotum and its contents in plastic freezer bags. The intestines were saved for sausage casings. Very little or nothing went to waste, it was a matter of pride.

Anna dug a shallow hole to discard the waste. Lindsey squatted and grabbed the jack's head by his hair in two bloody hands, then she stood and lifted, bending the carcass back on its spine to help drain the blood that had pooled in the hog-dressed carcass. The two women then washed their hands and their tools and rested, quite pleased with their efficient work. Each took a long, cold drink and then returned to their task. Anna lowered the carcass to the ground and Lindsey pinned her red permit to his already damaged left ear. She cut a stout stick to the proper length then jammed it in his chest cavity to Keep his rib cage open so that he might cool more quickly. Even gutted, he was too heavy to carry even slung on a pole, so they looped a rope around each foot and simply dragged him to camp.

Back at camp, Lindsey's stag weighed in sixty kilos, bled and gutted. He must have weight well more than one-ten hundred kilos alive. His carcass would yield forty kilos of meat. Lindsey and Anna needed help to get him lashed over the roof of Anna's car. The back of his head rested on the windshield and his wrists and ankles were tied securely to rack that served alternately to carry a canoe or bicycle in summer and skis. In winter. Draping him over the hood would expose him to the heat of the car's engine and likely taint the meat. The skin would protect the carcass. They would skin him when they got home.


End file.
